Backstory
by Rasiaa
Summary: Tōshirō's parents never saw him again once he left.


_Disclaimer: Bleach and it's characters belong to their respective owners._

* * *

She looked down, sighing. Her normally bright blue eyes were glazed, dim. The bright gold ring on her left hand shone brightly in the sunlight, seeming to mock her for her loss. With a cry, she ripped it from her finger and threw it at the wall, the tears spilling from her eyes. She buried her face in her hands, ashamed, as her shoulders began to shake in earnest.

How dare he leave her, a young woman barely out of her teens, with a five-year-old son to take care of? She sobbed harder, knowing that she would receive no help from her family, having been disowned when she became pregnant at the tender age of seventeen. Her job wasn't great- she barely made minimum wage, and the small former family of three just scraped by each week with meager meals and worn clothes, in a small, run-down apartment in one of the worst parts in town. Now, though she was supporting just herself and her little boy, things would get worse. What had she done to deserve this?

Wiping the tears from her eyes, she crawled over to the ring on the other side of the room, sliding it back onto her finger with shaking hands. She glanced up at the picture on the desk, displaying her, her late husband, and their son. They were smiling, standing close, despite their horrible conditions. She wondered briefly, her hand brushing over the picture's surface, if the military would provide for them at least a little, since he had died in the Emperor's service….

"Mama?" a small voice asked, timidly. She turned, her eyes settling on the small child standing in the doorway. His ragged clothes hung from his small body, and his bare feet shuffled on the hard wood floor. His dirty white hair stuck up in tufts, the pure, snowy color darkened miserably by weeks of grime and oil. His eyes, a sharp teal, were drooping with exhaustion and confused pain. "What's wrong, Mama?" he asked again.

Wordlessly, she held out her arms, inviting him close. His eyes grew wide, before he launched himself forward. He fell into her arms, clinging to her tightly. He was far too small for a five-year-old, she knew. Both in height and weight, he seemed so weak next to the other children, but his eyes always concealed a superior intelligence that rivaled the high school students'. She had no idea where it had come from, but she was grateful for it. Maybe one day, he could live comfortably, or maybe in luxury. Holding him closer, she closed her eyes and prayed hard for him and his future. She knew it was too late for her, but maybe he could survive. Maybe he could live a long life, with beautiful opportunities she could only ever dream of.

(::o::)

She stared blankly out the window, occasionally looking at her clock to see the time. She did this everyday after she got home from work, as there was nothing else for her to do. She waited for time to pass so that she could go and get her little one from school. Everyday, she ran terrible scenarios over in her head; just waiting for the day to come when she would get to the school and find that the small third grader- only six years old- will be beaten and bruised.

He had been able to skip grades, soaring high above his classmates despite his age and stature. The other children feared him, despite that fact that he was probably one of the least scary things out there. She worried constantly that one day the older teens would come and beat him. She glanced at the clock and leapt up, rushing to her two-person bike and hopping on it. She was down the street to the school in a matter of minutes.

She got there and forced herself to calm down. _He's fine_, she told herself firmly. _Everything is okay. _

It wasn't okay.

She got out of the car and went up to the office where she always picked him up from school. When she got there, the secretary stood and beckoned her closer. "Tōshirō is in the nurse's office," the secretary told her quickly. "We tried to reach you, but we were unsuccessful. You see, some of the older students beat him up pretty badly in the boys' bathrooms near the third-fifth grade classrooms." She shrugged helplessly. "We've expelled the other boys who beat him, since the damage was pretty severe, but we could not take him to the hospital without your permission, so he's still here."

She stood, stunned, for just the briefest of moments before she nodded and made her way down to the nurse's office, trying desperately not to run. When she did finally make it there, she let out a small cry and ignored the nurse completely, instead kneeling next to the bed he was resting on. She pressed her forehead to his side, lightly, as to not disturb the bandages that wound his small torso. She reached out for the small hand at his side and gripped it tightly. "Ma'am?" she heard, and looked up.

The woman who wasn't the nurse was standing there, looking shocked and angry as well as extremely apologetic. Her blonde hair was curled and it rested lightly on her shoulders, partly concealing the top of the bright pink, frilly dress she wore. She had on pink high heels to match the hideous dress. In her hands was a small pink handbag. "I'm terribly sorry," she began when she noticed she had been heard and acknowledged. "My son, Tsuyoshi, is the one who dealt most of the damage to your little boy there. I'm offering, now, to pay the hospital expenses. I know it won't resolve everything, but~"

She held up her hand, and Tsuyoshi's mother stopped talking. Taking a deep breath, she began, "That's good enough, miss. More than enough. Paying the bill will resolve it, I think, since I don't have the money to pay it myself. I also want a formal apology from your son, maybe in a letter, though, since our children will _never_ meet again, got it?"

The mother nodded, "Absolutely. I'll tell them you've called for the doctors, then?"

She nodded, and the mother disappeared. She rested her head back against Tōshirō's side and breathed deeply.

(::o::)

Her boy had eventually recovered completely, and the woman had come through and paid the doctor's bill. She had no idea what it had cost, nor did she want to know. She cared only that Tōshirō was okay, and that, since he was now home schooled, it wouldn't happen again.

Sighing, she ran her hand through her dark brown hair, pressing her pen to the paper again and continuing to write. It was a letter to her mother, asking to that, since her father had just passed, if she and her now seven-year-old could come and see her and the family. She glanced over at Tōshirō, smiling.

As if he sensed her glance, he looked up from his drawing and grinned at her, teeth missing from the front. His white hair fell in to his eyes, and with an annoyed grunt, he blew it out of his face, going crossed-eyed in the process. She chuckled, and he was immediately distracted, grinning at her once more. "You're so funny, darling," she muttered, and he smiled wider.

She turned away from him, satisfied that he was all right, and continued her letter.

(::o::)

Later that night, she sighed, staring at the strands of white that rested on the pillow. Her son had been asleep for nearly three minutes. She stood and smoothed down her dress, leaving his room and shutting the door lightly behind her. She walked into the living room and grabbed her coat, pulling it over her shoulders as she left her home.

She wasn't happy about leaving him like that, asleep and alone, but she had to meet the man who had been providing for them both halfway in exchange for her body for a night. It was horrible and wrong, but she had nothing else. Her shoes didn't make a sound as she kept to the shadows of the night, her coat shielding her for the most part. She turned several corners, getting father and farther from her son with every step. Her heart rate picked up with fear, as it did every night she left him- the race later to be mistaken as arousal and anticipation by the drug dealer. She had never corrected him, terrified of what he would say if he knew she had a babe waiting at home. (Though he was hardly a babe anymore. He was growing up too fast, too fast.)

The men at the door recognized her after seeing her nearly every night for a year and a half, and let her in without a word. The drug dealer was waiting, grinning at her cheerily. She dropped her coat and pulled her dress over her head, revealing her lace undergarments and thin body. His grin grew wider. She walked closer, slowly, giving him her best sensual smile while she forced her eyes to sparkle mischievously. He bought it, as usual, not really caring what she did when she settled herself on his lap.

"Hey there, baby," he purred. "You know, you're very beautiful. Why not work for me full-time?" he asked this nearly every month.

Her answer was always the same. "Oh, you know how much I'd love too, dear, but I am afraid I just can't do that."

She never told him why.

His grin widened, instead of faltering like usual. She knew something was wrong, very wrong. "Oh, well then," he muttered, pulling his hand from his pocket slowly. "Then I am afraid that I have to inform you that you and your stupid kid are getting too expensive. This is goodbye."

And the gunshot rung throughout the base, loud and clear. Her blood stained the floor, her eyes wide with fear and pain and shock, frozen in time.

(::o::)

Tōshirō stumbled over the crack in the road, shivering. He glanced around, darting into the alley nearby when a large man with a gun turned the corner. Young Tōshirō was nearly seven and half, and it had been only four months since his mother had been killed. He had waited, oh so long, for her to come home- a whole two weeks! – but she never did. She never did. She had left and never come back, just like everyone else- his friends, his dad, his grandparents, aunts, uncles- everyone. It wasn't fair. He had been kicked out of his apartment, and he had lost his things to thieves not long afterwards. Now, he stole when he could, and ate whatever he could find.

He was thin, small, young, and weak, making him a perfect target. He wasn't going to live much longer, he knew. He had a feeling, deep in his gut, which told him that he would die within the next week, at most. But he was at the point where it didn't matter- he'd be better off dead, because that sounded a whole lot better than the life he lived now, which was dirty, and lonely, and hard.

The footsteps of the man came closer. He shrank back further into the shadows, and though his white hair was dirty and flat, it was still hard to miss. He looked into the alley, and spotted the small boy immediately. He grinned. "Good God," he breathed, "so this is that bitch's boy, huh?" The man came into the alley and reached for Tōshirō, but the boy was faster. He darted away, rushing down the thin space between the two tall buildings, hearing the man scream, "So that's how it's going to be, huh, you son of a bitch?"

The man thundered after him, and though he kept a good distance, Tōshirō was very, very weak, and the dealer eventually caught up to him. Tōshirō screamed and struggled when he felt a big, meaty hand on his small arm, uncertain where the sudden will to live had come from, when just moments before he had wished to die.

It didn't matter.

What mattered was that the man had restrained him successfully, and had pierced his ribcage with a long, thin knife. The child felt the pain; he felt the blood leak from his left side. He felt the tears roll down his face.

He heard the man's voice, "Now you're not my problem."

All was black.

(::o::)

She walked briskly down the road, her bare feet burning slightly from the heat. Her husband walked beside her, holding her hand and guiding her to her new home. He chatted eagerly about the teenagers and young adults he lived with or lived near, and she was so happy to hear his voice again. He told her what all he had done in the time they had been apart, and he spoke joyously of the Soul Society, telling her how wonderful it was. They were one of the rare ones, as apparently not everyone found their real families again after death, and instead had to make new ones. While he said this, she prayed that her little boy would find them again, or, at the very least, find someone who would be kind to him. But only after he had lived a very long, happy life.

It had been nearly five months since she had passed on, and she had found her husband walking the streets just an hour before. Neither of them had believed it- they were together once more.

"Hurry up, Shiro-chan! You're so slow!" a young girl laughed, rushing past them. She pulled her husband to a stop, watching the child in amusement.

A young boy followed her closely. A young boy with startling white hair and teal eyes. She felt her heart stop when he ran past, not looking at either of his parents, and cried, "I'm not slow, you're just too fast!" It was his voice.

Her husband tugged on her arm, staring. "Is that…?" he asked quietly, trailing off. But she knew what he meant.

She gulped and spoke past the lump in her throat. "Yes, hon. That's Tōshirō."

He blinked, and started after him, but she tugged him back. When he looked at her, hurt and confused, she closed her eyes and shook her head. "We shouldn't. If what you said about the Soul Reapers is true, then we should give him that chance. He wouldn't want us holding him back." She opened her eyes and looked at him. He stared back. "Even I could sense his Spiritual Pressure. It'll grow. He could be a Captain one day, and he doesn't need us anymore."

He blinked, then looked at Tōshirō and the young girl he was with, who were standing behind a stall, picking up small bits of food when the manager wasn't looking. He gulped, staring, then looked back at her. She smiled shakily. He gave her a sad smile. "Yeah," he agreed. "You're probably right."

(::o::)

Years later, when the black carriage pulled up, she and her husband backed out of the way. They both could recall the day, not long after they had found him; Tōshirō had been taken away in one carriage quite similar to that one. It had been hard to see him go, after all those weeks of watching him from afar, knowing that it was unlikely they would ever see him again. The door to the carriage opened, and a tall woman with long blonde, curly hair and big breasts stepped out, grinning wildly. A deep voice came from behind her, "Move, Matsumoto."

She giggled, "Oops! Sorry, Captain!" she said, turning a little bit. She then moved out of the way of the door and continued to look around.

A short, young teenager came out of the carriage behind her, glaring at her. His hair was white and clean, his teal eyes sharp and clear. It was very different from the young boy who had left all those years ago. He had been smaller, though only by about an inch, and dirtier. Most never took him seriously because of his age. Now, though, there was no mistaking the authoritative tone in his voice, nor the confidence in his step. He wore similar clothes to that of Matsumoto- the black Soul Reaper uniform and sandals on his feet. Though, while Matsumoto had the Lieutenant's badge on her arm, he instead had the Captain's white robe over his uniform. His sword was strapped to his back, the blue hilt near his head on the left side, so he could draw it easily with his right hand. A green ribbon held the sword in place, adorned with a little star-like clip between his ribs.

He blinked at the crowd that had formed, unfazed. He cocked his head to one side, just slightly, and said, "We've been sent to guard the town. Apparently, something that isn't entirely friendly managed to get in here. We'll be here for three days, maximum, and we won't bother you. Carry on with your business, please. Matsumoto, head east, I'll take the west," he finished, already heading in the western direction.

"Yes, sir, Hitsugaya!" she called, waving.

"That's Captain Hitsugaya, Matsumoto!" he called angrily in response. He passed right by his parents without a second glance, though they stared after him.

Their neighbor nudged her, and she glanced at the older woman. She pointed her thumb in the Captain' direction. "You'll never speak with him, after all, he's the highest rank there is, besides the General Captain. We're all lucky to even glimpse him, never mind hear his voice."

She nodded in response, knowing it was true. It was clear Tōshirō didn't remember his life. She supposed it was a good thing.

The Captain and his Lieutenant left three days later, true to their word. They hadn't disturbed a soul, and most hadn't noticed them until they were _right there_. Tōshirō's parents never saw him again once he left.

* * *

_The final scene takes place after the fight with Aizen.  
_


End file.
